


Picture It

by ProseApothecary



Category: Crashing (UK TV)
Genre: Closet Angst and Fluff, Just the mid-level frustration I imagine being friends with Sam would entail, M/M, Not a happy or a sad ending, Pre-Slash, Wow I'm really selling this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23079676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProseApothecary/pseuds/ProseApothecary
Summary: “I’m not missing out on this.” Fred points to toddler Sam, wearing overalls covered in forklifts, with Keep on Trucking emblazoned on the front.Sam gives him a sideways grin for a second.“I can’t believe you spiked up your hair even more. And you’re missing so many teeth.”“I did a lot of stunts.”“Stunts?” Fred sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.“Crawling up slides. Trying to get to the top of the gym shed. Hanging upside down from the monkey bars.”“Right. Stunts.”“Let me guess, you didn’t do stunts? You were probably one of those angelic kids. Quiet, well-behaved, ‘a pleasure to have in class’-”“You can say goody-two-shoes.”Sam nudges him. “I was getting to that.”
Relationships: Fred Patini/Sam
Comments: 7
Kudos: 68





	Picture It

Fred pushes open the door to Sam’s room, fully prepared for movie night, home-cooked popcorn and all.

Sam’s sitting there, in the middle of his bed, an album spread out in front of him. Looking a little lost.

“Hey…Everything ok?”

“Mum sent me Dad’s old photo collections.”

“Oh. I can go.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam says quickly, so Fred curls up on the bed next to him.

Sam’s looking at a photo of himself as a toddler, holding hands with his father outside his school.

“You don’t _have_ to stay either,” Sam says.

“I’m not missing out on this.” Fred points to toddler Sam, wearing overalls covered in forklifts, with _Keep on Trucking_ emblazoned on the front.

Sam gives him a sideways grin for a second.

“I can’t believe you spiked up your hair even more. And you’re missing so many teeth.”

“I did a lot of stunts.”

“Stunts?” Fred sounds like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Crawling up slides. Trying to get to the top of the gym shed. Hanging upside down from the monkey bars.”

“Right. Stunts.”

“Let me guess, you didn’t do stunts? You were probably one of those _angelic_ kids. Quiet, well-behaved, ‘a pleasure to have in class’-”

“You can say goody-two-shoes.”

Sam nudges him. “I was getting to that.” He turns the page.

“Wow. Are you wearing baggy pants and a backwards cap at your…prom?”

“Moving on,” Sam says, flipping through several pages.

There’s a loose photo sitting on the cardboard backing. Sam, probably no more than five. Possessive as ever, arms clinging to his friend’s shoulders.

Sam stares at it for a few seconds, so Fred asks, “Are you still friends?”

“No,” says Sam, snapping the album shut.

“Did I do something wrong?” Fred asks at the same time as Sam asks, “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

“…What?” asks Sam.

“Nothing. I mean yes. To the movie.”

_Pretty Woman_ plays while Fred is preoccupied with Sam being preoccupied with God knows what. But sleep wins out in the end, and Sam drifts off.

Fred gets up to leave, before noticing that Sam’s still dressed for work, and is probably unwilling to be half-suffocated by his necktie while he sleeps. He vacillates for a second, stuck on how it’s going to look and all the ways this could go wrong for him, then gets to work on the knotted fabric. Maintaining as much distance as possible.

Sam’s eyes flutter open, and Fred’s hands drop instantly. But Sam just smiles up at him.

“Are you trying to get me undressed?”

“I had visions of you being strangled by your own tie. But now you’re awake, _you_ can-”

“Can’t.” says Sam. “Too sleepy. Guess you’ll have to do it. Or I’ll just choke to death in the middle of the night.”

Fred rolls his eyes and pulls the tie off.

Sam grins at him. “You really _are_ a goody-two-shoes.”

“Oh my God. Goodnight.”

The movie nights continue. It’s after watching _Notting Hill_ , rain bucketing down outside, that Sam asks, “Fred. Um, how did you know you were gay?”

Fred inhales sharply. He knows what that question means. He also knows that Sam is skittish, and he really doesn’t want to make him run.

So he takes a breath, tries to answer as if it’s a perfectly normal question to ask a friend when they’re sharing a bed in the middle of the night.

“There was a boy in my primary school,” Fred says. “One of those popular kids who are actually nice. And I got flustered whenever he was nice to _me_.”

“But you were a kid,” Sam says. “I mean. That could’ve meant anything.”

Fred thinks of the photo album, thinks _What do you want me to say, Sam?_

“I knew what it meant for me.”

There’s a brief pause. “Sounds like you were a pretty badass kid.”

Fred snorts. “That’s me. Badass.”

Sam smiles at him, his face a few inches away, and Fred, for a second wonders if he’s going to lean in.

Then he turns back to his laptop.

And Fred waits another day.


End file.
